


The Twelve Years of Christmas

by tres_mechante



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Christmas, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kids, M/M, Magic, Please read notes, Romance, Talking Animals, Vignettes, alternative universe, crack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 7,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tres_mechante/pseuds/tres_mechante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmastime in Chicago! Or, a series of connected vignettes in which Ray Vecchio was never a mobster and Ray Kowalski was never Italian, although Benton Fraser does still wear a red uniform and hangs out with a snarky half-wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Andeincascade (Ande)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ande/gifts).



> Warnings/triggers: reference to child abuse, some violence, language, 9/11 reference
> 
> Other: Very AU; rampant silliness; flagrant abuse of classic Christmas song; talking animals; absurd situations; true love; occasional embarrassment; bouts of sarcasm/snark; a plethora of strippers, plumbers and ballet dancers (oh my!);
> 
> This is total Christmas crack, so just go with the flow.
> 
> Ande, I hope this hit most of what was on your wish list.

==================== ===== ====================

 _ **Looking back on everything now, I suppose it all started with a letter, well, several letters really by the time all was said and done. But it all had to start somewhere so, for the sake of argument, let's say it all started with one particular letter.**_

==================== ===== ====================

 

"Mail call!"

Fraser looked up as Maggie breezed into his office waving a stack of letters and magazines. She had a naturally cheerful disposition but on this particular morning she was unusually, even excessively, perky.

"Have you been eating chocolate-covered coffee beans again?"

Her glare was quite impressive, although she chose to ignore his comment in favour of whatever had her so relentlessly cheerful. "There's a very interesting item in today's post."

He reached for the proffered stack of letters, hoping she was referring to the latest edition of _Canadian Geographic_. He was disappointed that it wasn't there but was consoled to find the latest edition of _The Beaver_.

The magazine was pulled out of his hands and replaced with a small envelope – a basic #8 sans security lining – sealed with slightly mangled cellophane tape. He turned it over to read the return address and immediately turned a glare on his half-sister. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Don't blame me; that was in the bundle when the mail arrived." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's addressed to Santa at the North Pole." At her smirk, he upped the intensity of his glare but it had no effect. "Do I look like Santa Claus?" he asked.

She looked over to where the scarlet jacket hung and then back at him with a small shrug.

"Be that as it may, this is hardly the North Pole."

"Close enough to a kid in Chicago. Look, it obviously got mixed up and didn't make it to Santa's helpers at Canada Post. I'll send it back to the post office; maybe someone can answer, it even if it missed Christmas."

"Possibly more than one Christmas," he murmured as he studied the smudged postmark. Well, he wasn't Santa, nor was he at the North Pole, but perhaps he could send some kind of response – assuming there was an address inside.

Maggie slipped away when he opened small battered envelope.

According to the date on the letter, the envelope had been in limbo for about 15 years. He'd expected demands for whatever the popular toy had been that year but instead found a heartfelt plea from a little girl asking for help. She only wanted her big brother to be happy and safe from the bad men. Oh dear.

Diefenbaker chose that moment to jump up to inspect the letter. Fraser reached over to scratch behind his ears. “This isn’t what I expected,” murmured Fraser. “I’m at a loss as to how to respond.”

“So don’t,” said Diefenbaker. At Fraser’s horrified look, he added, “Look, if you’re concerned about this cub, then why not just drop by and make sure things are okay.”

“Drop – you mean _go_ there?”

Diefenbaker somehow gave the impression of shrugging. “Why not? Then you could see for yourself what the situation is.”

“You want me to go to Chicago?”

Diefenbaker snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I mean _we_ should go. I’ve never been to Chicago. I’ve never even been out of the country.”

Fraser stared at his four-footed friend in disbelief. “You crossed into Alaska chasing after that Siberian husky.”

“It was an accident – and I didn’t even know about the border until you’d already brought me back.” Diefenbaker yawned in boredom, grumbling, “And if that bitch was from Siberia then I’m a poodle.”

Fraser decided to let that pass; his own romantic endeavours were hardly the stuff of legend. Bringing the subject back to the matter at hand, he said, “I suppose – assuming arrangements can be made regarding scheduling and transport – but then again, how are we supposed to track a child from almost 15 years ago in a city we’ve never visited?”

Diefenbaker looked a bit confused for a moment. “There can’t be that many Francesca Vecchio’s – can there?” he asked.

Maggie suddenly appeared in front of them, causing both man and half-wolf to give a startled yelp. She handed Fraser travel documents and a map of the greater Chicago area. “Oh, and here’s a list of Vecchios. This should give you a good place to start. The Canadian consulate is expecting you; you can bunk there while you’re in town.” She disappeared as quietly as she’d appeared.

Fraser looked down at Diefenbaker. “How does she do that?”

“Don’t look at me; she’s _your_ sister,” he replied. “Since when does Chicago have a Canadian consulate?”

 

==================== ===== ====================

 _ **And that’s how it all started. What should have been a quick in and out job turned into a whole lot more than expected. Looking back, I think it was probably the most fun they’d had in quite some time. As you may have gathered, Benton didn't really get out much.**_

==================== ===== ====================

 


	2. December 1996 - leaping lords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leaping lords.

The ballet was supposed to be genteel and civilized. The ballet was not supposed to be the scene of a major brawl – and possibly an attempted murder – among the dancers. Ray sighed. Another long-held illusion shot to hell. He leaned against the wall and watched the uniformed officers try to separate the male dancers; no point getting his suit rumpled if he didn't have to. Besides, the supposedly dead dancer – who’d merely been knocked out – was loudly yelling at everyone in what sounded like French.

A flash of red caught his eye. He scanned the crowd and spotted some guy dressed in red arguing with one of the officers. Sighing yet again, he hurried over to intervene before another brawl broke out.

"It's okay, McAlister, I've got this," he said to the young man, who gave him a nod and grateful smile before hightailing it back to the main group with a quiet, "Thanks, Detective" as he went.

He eyed the man in red, doing his best to look intimidating. "This is a crime scene," he said. "You need to vacate the area – unless you were involved somehow..."

"Not directly, no. But I am here to liaise between the Canadian dancers and local authorities." He stood straighter – if that was even possible – and held out his hand. "My apologies, Detective. I'm Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

A soft whine drew his attention downward, where a large wolf-type dog sat.

"This is Diefenbaker," said the Mountie.

"Right. So, uh, you liaising for all these dancers?"

"Just one of them," said Fraser, indicating the yelling dancer. “I should get probably go over there and…translate.”

“Right. Well, try to get him calmed down a bit. It’ll make this whole thing easier on everyone.”

“Thank you, Detective – I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” said Fraser, holding out his hand.

“Detective Raymond Vecchio,” he said, shaking hands.

“Oh! Vecchio…any relation to Francesca?”

Ray straightened up and gave the man a hard look. “You know Frannie?”

Fraser began scratching at his eyebrow. “Ah, well, in a manner of – that is to say, not as such.”

“Uh huh.” Ray crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“There was a letter when she was a child, and I meant to write back, but the name Vecchio is unusual, so I thought perhaps you were related – which you apparently are, given your reaction – and…” Fraser trailed off. “How is she?"

Ray relaxed slightly. “I remember that. She went through a pen-pal phase and sent letters all over the place," he said. "She's good, all grown up now."

"And you? How are you doing? Are _you_ happy?"

While Ray was still trying to decide how to respond to the weird intensity of that question, one of the uniformed officers called him over to talk to one of the dancers. The next time he looked around, Fraser and the wolf were gone.

 

==================== ===== ====================  
 ** _And that should have been the end of it – clearly the kid's big brother had landed on the right side of the law. Case closed, right? Wrong. It bothered Benton that he hadn't been able to speak with Francesca, which led to the decision to return to Chicago the following year._**  
==================== ===== ====================


	3. December 1997 - dancing ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dancing ladies.

He'd been sitting, drinking, and watching strippers all evening and he was more depressed than when he'd first arrived. You'd think that of all the nearly naked women, at least one of them would have caught his attention, but no, not a one.

It was official; Ray Kowalski was dead – at least from the waist down. He threw back the last of his drink and tossed a few bucks on the table and got up. There was no point staying; he could get hammered at home without spending his pay check.

He made his way to the back exit, stumbling a bit as the fresh air hit him. He was mildly disgusted with himself for having too much booze. While he waited for the world to stop spinning, he was distracted by a conversation taking place a little further along the alley.

"I don't think this is the right place," said a man with what sounded to be a Canadian accent.

"I don't want to say I told you so--" scoffed his companion. The voice was male but the accent was more difficult to place.

"Then don't."

"—but I told you so." Ray grinned at the tone; it was one his Aunt Irene liked to use. "You shouldn't have let Old Buck do the research."

"His eyes aren't what they used to be," agreed the first man. He heard footsteps coming closer. "Well, we won't know for certain unless we actually go inside."

"I really think we should just leave and do our own research rather than – hey, wait for me!"

Curious to see who he'd been eavesdropping on, Ray watched the shadows to see who emerged, but frowned at the sound of only one set of footsteps. In moments, he was face to face to a tall, dark haired man wearing a startlingly bright red jacket.

"I beg your pardon," said the man in what Ray could now see was a uniform. "But do you happen to know if this is Frannie's Place?"

"Frannie? Oh, you mean Fannie. Yeah, this is Fannie's Place."

"No, no, you misunderstood. I'm looking for an establishment run by Frannie, well, Francesca Vecchio."

Ray was starting to feel a bit like he'd walking into an Abbot and Costello routine. "This is Fannie's Place, run by Fannie Vaccaro."

"Are you certain?"

"Uh, yeah. Not that it's any of my business, but this isn't exactly a family friendly kind of place, if you get my meaning, and you don't strike me as the type of guy who hangs out at strip joints."

"Oh. Oh, I see," he said. Ray was amused to see him blush; even in the dim lighting of the alley, he could tell the man was almost the same color as his jacket. "I hadn't realized..."

"Well, now that that's cleared up I better get going," he said. "Good luck finding whatever it was you were looking for."

He was almost to the street before he realized he had company. He stopped and confronted his shadow – shadows, if one counted the dog at his side. "Something I can help you with?"

"I was wondering if you were driving." Something of Ray's confusion must have shown on his face, because the man hurried on to explain. "It's just that you don't seem to be in any shape to drive. You were weaving as you walked."

"Thanks for pointing that out, but I do know better than to drive when I'm drinking," he said. "I came by cab so I could get as shitfaced as I wanted."

The strange man watched him closely. "A celebration of some sort? I understand bachelor parties often end up at establishment such as this one."

"No bachelor party, exactly, but I was toasting my girl's engagement," said Ray, suddenly feeling a lot more sober. "My ex-wife is set to marry some political sleaze ball. How's that for trading up, huh? Divorced a cop to marry a crook."

Ray jumped slightly as something cold and wet touched his hand. He looked down to see the dog, which looked kind of like a wolf, nuzzle his hand. Ray pets him a few times. "Thanks, buddy."

"His name is Diefenbaker."

"Hey Dief," said Ray. He looked back at the oddly-dressed man.

The man held out his hand. "Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, on temporary assignment to the Canadian consulate."

Ray grinned. "A real live Mountie, huh? Nice to meet you Constable Benton Fraser. Ray Kowalski, Chicago PD."

"A pleasure, officer."

"It's detective, but you can call me Ray."

"Thank you, Ray. You may call me Ben – or simply Fraser, as many tend to do."

"Fraser. So, uh, you going in?" asked Ray, indicating the strip club.

"I don't believe so," said Fraser. "I'll just head on back to the consulate."

"Well, nice to meet you Fraser – and Dief. Maybe I'll see you around some time."

"Maybe so, Ray. Maybe so."

 

==================== ===== ====================  
 _ **Benton was bound and determined to find this girl and see for himself what had become of her since she'd written that letter. Of course, he also has a heart big as all outdoors, so it was only to be expected that he'd take someone else under his wing. This meant he needed to make another trip to Chicago.**_  
==================== ===== ====================


	4. December 1998 - pipes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pipes.

"This...is not what I expected," said Ray Vecchio moments after bursting into the warehouse.

Ray Kowalski shook his head in disbelief and lowered his weapon. "I got to say I've never seen anything like this."

The other officers who'd streamed in behind them and spread out through the huge room looked just as confused at the display before them.

As far as the eye could see there were tables and booths set up, and a large number of men milled about. At the center of the action is a Christmas tree – at least 15 feet tall – made entirely out of copper pipes and decorated with...metal things.

A flash of bright red caught their attention as a certain Mountie made his way toward them. "Hello Ray, Ray. I see you both got my message." Fraser looked at the assorted officers milling about. "And you brought some friends."

"Hey Fraser," said Kowalski. "What's going on?"

"What the hell is going on here?" echoed Vecchio. "You said this was a drug den."

Fraser looked shocked. "I said no such thing."

The two Rays shared a look. Vecchio said, "Your message said if we showed up this afternoon we'd find crack pipes and heavy duty hardware, what else would we think?"

Fraser, frantically scratching at his eyebrow, muttered something that may or may not have been an expletive and said, "I telephoned to invite you to a Christmas concert – The Cracked Pipes All Plumber Chorus is very popular and the handyman craft and tool sale is quite the event." He looked at the two detectives. "I was actually going to introduce the two of you to each other, but it appears you are already acquainted."

Kowalski shook his head and went to talk to the other officers, telling them to stand down. Vecchio watched him go. "He got transferred to my department a few months ago. Imagine my surprise when Stanley, here, walks in."

"Excuse me, Ray, but who is Stanley?" asked Fraser.

Kowalski rounded on Vecchio. "It's Ray, asshole. And imagine my surprise to find out I'm partnered with the prick who screwed my wife!"

"You're _ex_ -wife – and you've got no call to get pissy, _Stanley_ , after you made a move on my baby sister!"

"Frannie's plenty old enough to make her own decisions – and it's _Ray_!"

"Gentlemen," said Fraser, getting between them. "Really, I don't think--"

"Ray! RayRayRayRay!" A large dog – wolf – ran towards them and launched himself at Kowalski. "Hi Ray!"

He laughed, all animosity forgotten, and hugged his four-footed assailant with the wagging tail. "Hey Diefster! Good to see you, too."

Dief pulled back. "You remember me?"

“Well of course. You are very unforgettable.”

Fraser reached out and pulled Diefenbaker away, all the while chastising him for bad manners.

Vecchio frowned at the dog – wolf? – before looking at Kowalski with an oddly soft expression.

He didn't see the speculative look on Fraser’s face as he gazed from one Ray to the other.

 

==================== ===== ====================  
 _ **I'm not exactly sure what went on during that trip. All he'd say was that he had it on good authority that Francesca was all grown up and able to take care of herself. But something must have happened because he started reading advice columns – for gay men. And he kept talking about his next trip to Chicago.**_  
==================== ===== ====================


	5. December 1999 - drumming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drumming.

Fraser felt as though he were flying – well maybe just floating a bit, since his feet kept hitting things, so he probably wasn't actually flying.

"Geez, for a lightweight he sure weighs a ton," said someone to his left.

"I guess they build 'em real solid up in Canada," said someone to his right.

Suddenly he was falling, but before he could panic, he landed on something soft and bouncy. He giggled at that thought, bouncy-bouncy.

"He's gonna feel that in the morning," said a familiar voice.

"Serves him right for passing out and sticking us with the bill. He could at least have had some American cash instead of that monopoly money on him," complained another familiar voice. "You okay if he crashes here?"

"It won't be the first time I slept on the couch."

"Okay. I'll come by around 7:30 – and yes, Stanley, I'll bring the good coffee."

The voices faded and silence surrounded him.

"Rise and shine!"

Fraser jerked back to consciousness and sat up – and immediately wished he hadn't.

"You feeling okay, there, buddy?"

The voice sounded like Ray, but surely he wouldn't be so cruel as to be so chipper while Fraser was dying – would he?

He tried to open his eyes, but the brightness drilled holes in his brain, causing him to whimper and close them more tightly. Suddenly everything was too much – even the ticking of his watch sounded like a thousand drummers using his head for practice.

Something mercifully cool and damp touched his hand.

"Drink this – slowly."

He grasped the glass and drank. When it was empty, another was placed in his hand; he drank that one as well. When a third glass was put in his hand, he tried to push it away.

"You don't have to drink it all, Fraser. Just use it to wash down the pills – it'll help, trust me on this. I'm an expert on the morning after the night before."

He dutifully swallowed the pills with a bit of water. Once the glass was removed from his hand, he started to tilt backwards, but was caught by strong hands.

"Oh, no you don't. Into the shower with you," said Ray, pulling him upright. "Vecchio will be here in a few minutes with coffee."

At that moment there was a god-awful pounding from somewhere. For one horrible moment, Fraser thought he was going to vomit when Ray moved away and shouted down the hall "Door's open!"

Moments later the other Ray burst into the room. "He looks like something the wolf dragged in."

He flinched at Diefenbaker's rather strident, "Hey, leave me out of this!"

The first Ray laughed. "I'm pretty sure this is his first ever hangover."

"You mean we corrupted a Mountie? Can we go to jail for that?" asked the other Ray.

Fraser began to feel dizzy trying to keep track of the Rays. Somehow he found himself in the bathroom with the shower running. He could hear voices in the other room, but not the words. Resignedly, he forced himself under the water, flinching as it battered his poor abused body. Logically, he knew he'd feel better in a little while, but that didn't stop him from cursing the evils of alcohol with a fervour that would have done his Grandmother McKay proud.

 

==================== ===== ====================  
 _ **Benton was quiet after that last visit, but insisted on returning to Chicago, citing unfinished business. No one really knew what he was doing down there – well, except for Diefenbaker, but the wolf is nothing if not loyal, and he wasn't talking. I could only hope he wasn't getting involved in something he couldn't handle.**_  
==================== ===== ====================


	6. December 2000 - maids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maids.

Fraser couldn't take his eyes from the vision before him. "Francesca... you are exquisite."

She blushed. "Thank you, Fraser – I mean, Benton." Her smile was surprisingly shy and innocent. "You really are a gentleman."

"I'm only speaking the truth," he said. He cleared his throat. "I, uh, I haven't been to many weddings, but when I saw you come up the aisle, well, I have every confidence that you are the most beautiful—"

The shriek of a tired child interrupted them. Francesca's young niece, the flower girl, was losing patience with proceedings.

Francesca sighed. "I guess we'd better finish the photos. I don't think Louisa is going to last much longer." She waved to the photographer to let her know she was on the way for the photo of the bride and bridesmaids.

Ray and Ray walked up and flanked Fraser. "Go ahead, Frannie. Me and Kowalski will keep him company until you're done." Ray and Ray herded him away from the gaggle of bridesmaids gathering around the bride.

Fraser allowed himself to be manhandled into a secluded alcove by his two friends.

"Fraser, we can't help but notice how Frannie acts around you," said Ray Vecchio.

"She's all moony-eyed and giggly – even more than usual," supplied Ray Kowalski. "So, me and Vecchio here figured a little man-to-man-to-man talk was in order."

He looked from one Ray to the other. "A man to man – oh, you think – well yes, I imagine that as her brother you –"

A shrill voice cut across the room. "Raimondo, you leave him alone! That goes for you, too, Kowalski!"

Both Rays took a step back and turned to smile reassuringly at Frannie, who gave them both stern looks before rejoining the gaggle of bridesmaids.

Fraser cleared his throat to regain their attention. "Gentlemen, I assure you my intentions toward Francesca are strictly honourable. I am simply doing her the favour of acting as her escort to dissuade one of the more persistent groomsmen."

"Someone's been bothering Frannie?"

"Which one? Me and Vecchio will go have a little talk with him – don't look at me like that; she's practically family."

"I don't believe Francesca would appreciate you threatening her friend's brother," said Fraser. "Besides, she has already put him in his place. My presence is more of a convenient reminder to stay away than to provide any actual protection."

The two Rays exchange a look, seeming to have an entire conversation in the space of a glance. Fraser was about to continue his attempt to dissuade the Rays from whatever action they were planning when he caught sight of Francesca and Elaine Besbriss slipping from the room. He smiled fondly at their retreating forms and refocused on his friends.

"I assure you, there is no chance that the groomsman will entice her into any sort of impropriety." He refrained from adding that Francesca's attentions were firmly fixed on a member of the bride's entourage.

 

==================== ===== ====================  
 _ **Well, he was certainly in a good mood after that trip. It was a pretty good year, too, until the night Diefenbaker turned up with a charred wad of paper in his mouth. Benton carefully smoothed out what he could, and whatever was written there had him haring back to Chicago as though the hounds of hell were at his heels.**_  
==================== ===== ====================


	7. December 2001 - swans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swans.

Vecchio was fast approaching panic by the time he found his wayward friend. Kowalski had simply not shown up at work – no calls, no notes, no nothing. Welsh seemed to know something was up, but he didn't call bullshit when Vecchio said his partner had called in that he had the flu.

Eventually, just after midnight, he tracked his partner to a church not far from the waterfront. The church doors were locked, but Stanley – _Ray_ – sat huddled in the doorway, rocking back and forth, singing to himself. He was surrounded by little scraps of paper. As he got closer he could see the paper had been folded into what was probably supposed to be birds.

Carefully, casually, he climbed the steps and joined the other man in the alcove.

"I've been looking for you all day."

"You found me," he said. He held reached into his pocket and pulled out a Mickey Finn. "Have a drink. Can't toast properly if you don't drink."

Vecchio accepted the small bottle and took a swig, grimacing at the burn. "What are we toasting?"

"Life."

He waited, but when nothing else was said responded, "Life is good."

"Not everyone thinks so," said Kowalski, smoothing out a piece of paper before clumsily folding it into the same shape as the others. "My cousin Davey, he liked doing these things – orami, no, ori-gami, that's it. He said it was an easy way to focus on something good. Davey was a firefighter up in the Big Apple."

Suddenly, Vecchio got it. He remembered hearing stories about friends and family who'd died when the Towers fell, remembered holding Stanley as he cried and screamed out his grief. He counted the little bird-like creations – one for each hole in Kowalski's life.

He picked up one of the figures. "It's...not bad," he offered.

Kowalski laughed, a watery broken sound. "It sucks. But Davey, man he could do just about anything. He tried to teach me once, when we were kids, but..." He plucked the little figure from Vecchio's fingers. "It's supposed to be a crane. Looks kind of like a swan, or maybe a dinosaur."

Vecchio snorted at that because, yeah, it did look kind of like a dinosaur. He eyed his partner for a moment, assessing his condition. Without a word he pulled off his coat and draped it around Kowalski's too-thin frame.

"Hey, Vecchio?"

"Yeah?"

"I''m not feeling too Christmasy this year."

"Lot of that going around, Kowalski."

"Hey Vecchio?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to tell you something, but you can't tell anyone – and if you do I'll just say it was the booze talking and call you a liar to your face." He looked around in case of eavesdroppers and then confided, "Sometimes, just sometimes, I kind of like it when you call me Stanley."

Vecchio chuckled. "My lips are sealed. No one would believe me, anyway," he said, shifting a bit so he could wrap his arm around the other man's shoulders. "Come on, Stanley, I'll take you home."

"It's too quiet there – too many thoughts. Turtle is a great listener but he don't talk all that much."

Vecchio shook his head. "Hey, Stanley?"

"Yeah?"

"Turtles don't actually talk."

"Says you."

"Yeah, says me. Come on, I'm freezing my ass off here. Let's go."

Kowalski indicated his collection of origami. "What should I do with those? I don't want to leave them, but I don't really want to take them home, either."

Neither man saw the figure in the shadows of the old church. The man cupped his hands and blew gently into them before opening his hands towards the huddled men in the doorway. A gentle breeze kicked up, taking the origami birds as they went, giving them flight into the night.

Vecchio and Kowalski watched as they flew away. Once they were gone, Vecchio helped Kowalski to stand and took him home, promising to stay until sunrise so he wouldn't have to endure the silence alone.

 

==================== ===== ====================  
 _ **When he got home after that last trip, I was pretty sure he'd never set foot back in that city. He never said a word about going back, but then all of a sudden he seemed to come to life and off he went.**_  
==================== ===== ====================


	8. December 2002 - geese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geese.

Vecchio and Kowalski ambled down a quiet street, right in the middle of the road, in fact, as though they hadn't a care in the world. Talk about a surreal moment, following Diefenbaker as he herded a gaggle of Canadian geese down the street toward the Canadian consulate.

"I've been down the street at least a gazillion times and this is the first time I've ever actually seen it," said Vecchio.

"Weird place for it," agreed Kowalski. "Kind of out of the way."

"Yeah, but what gets me is the building," replied Vecchio as they gazed at the building in the distance. It was an old Victorian house with the white trim, looking kind of like a gingerbread house - definitely not something one expected to find in this particular neighbourhood.

Vecchio nudged Kowalski. "So, explain to me why we're helping a wolf herd geese down a suburban Chicago street instead of just calling animal control?"

Diefenbaker glanced back and asked “Where else would Canadian geese go?”

Kowalski shrugged. "Dief’s got a point. You have to admit it makes a weird kind of sense - Canadian geese, Canadian consulate."

"Huh. I suppose." He smiled when he felt a hand brush his. "Hey, can I ask you a question? Do you actually understand what the wolf says?”

“Sure. Don’t you?”

“Not so much, no,” said Vecchio. They continued on. "Nice day for a walk, though."

"That it is."

Before long they found themselves holding hands as they walked. The door to the consulate opened and they saw Fraser in his red jacket standing on the steps watching the little procession. Kowalski started to let go, but Vecchio gripped him tighter.

"I'm not ashamed, Kowalski, just so you know."

Kowalski held still for a moment before tightening his own grip. "Me neither, Vecchio. It's just..."

"Yeah, I get it," he said reassuringly. "It's hard to stop hiding when that's what you're used to."

They saw the moment Fraser noticed their joined hands, and to their relief he merely smiled and held the door open for the geese to enter.

Vecchio pulled Kowalski to a stop while the geese struggled up the steps. “You know what’s really weird?”

Kowalski eyed the geese, the wolf and the Mountie. “Weirder than this?” he asked in disbelief.

Vecchio laughed and nodded. “You ever notice how Fraser looks exactly like he did when you first met?”

“Not a grey hair in sight,” agreed Kowalski. “No wrinkles, either.”

“Must be really good genes.”

Kowalski eyed Vecchio’s thinning hair and the laugh lines at around his eyes.

“Not one word, Kowalski.”

 

==================== ===== ==========  
 ** _No one ever figured out why he'd borrowed the geese, but they were eventually returned, none the worse for their little vacation. However, whatever had gone on seemed to rekindle the spark in Benton. He was suddenly full of plans – not that he shared the details with me, you understand. Although I did wonder why he started researching same-sex marriage._**  
==================== ===== ==========


	9. December 2003 - rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rings.

Fraser frowned at the silence from his friends. "I'm quite serious," he said. "It's perfectly legal in Canada. I could start the paperwork, meet you in Niagara Falls, and then you could stay for the honeymoon."

"Marriage," said Vecchio.

"In Canada," added Kowalski.

"I think it's a perfectly sensible solution."

"Except that it wouldn't be legal here," said Kowalski.

"Exactly," agreed Vecchio.

"But at least you'd be married _somewhere_. Surely that counts for something."

Vecchio and Kowalski looked at each others, once again seeming to have an entire conversation with a single glance.

Kowalski turned to Fraser. "Look, Benton-buddy, it's not that we aren't grateful – and we may take you up on it one day – but..."

"But we know we're committed to each other, and... ah hell. I wasn't going to do this until later but now is as good a time as any." Vecchio reached into his jacket and pulled out a small box, which he set on the table before Kowalski.

Kowalski blinked. "Is...is this what I think it is?"

"I went back to Shaw's the next day and – geez would you just open it already."

Fraser watched avidly as the box was opened to reveal a pair of gold rings. "I know we can't do this all legal-like, but...Stanley Raymond Kowalski, would you do me the honour of sharing the rest of our lives together?" Vecchio plucked one of the rings and started to slide it on the other man's right hand, when suddenly Kowalski pulled back, saying "No."

Vecchio's face was a study in desolation.

"Oh, knock it off, Vecchio. The answer's yes, but the ring goes here," he said, offering his left hand. "If we're doing this, we're doing it right – or as much as we can, anyway."

Fraser watched as they exchanged rings, proud of his friends for their commitment to one another even as he was sorry their union could not be officially recognized in their own state. He decided to prepare the marriage paperwork anyway, hoping that one day they'd decide on a Canadian wedding.

 

==================== ===== ====================

 ** _Whatever business had been taking him away for the past few years seemed to be wrapped up, he wasn't talking about a next trip. But that changed without warning. For the first time ever, I saw Benton in a rage. It was a terrible thing to behold. Maggie said it started after the mail arrived. He tore a letter to pieces, and then spent an hour or so putting it back together. Diefenbaker was the only one who could get close to him. They both left for Chicago that very night._**

==================== ===== ==================== 


	10. December 2004 - calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calling.

They were off duty (but on-call) when it happened, happily Christmas shopping – well, maybe not happily because the crowds were not fun – but they were getting the shopping done, along with Frannie and Elaine along as ‘consultants’. Or maybe it’s that Vecchio and Kowalski had been brought along as pack mules, but they opted not to think about that.

Either way, they were enjoying a little down time when it happened.

"Let go!" The voice rang out, high-pitched and frantic. "Don't touch me!"

Vecchio and Kowalski changed direction and headed back toward the alley, reaching for their weapons as discreetly as possible. Frannie and Elaine noticed they were no longer following and turned back. Elaine moved in front of Frannie when she noticed the detectives reaching for their weapons. Since Elaine was unarmed, they gestured for her and Frannie to stay back.

Carefully, the two men made their way toward the commotion. In dim light from an open door, they could see a large man struggling with a child. The kid tried to kick the man but lost his balance, allowing the man to get a better grip on him.

A shadow fell across them as a large man stepped out from the doorway, partially blocking the light. "Hurry up and get him inside before someone hears him," the other man snapped. When the first man and his struggling captive were in range, he raised his hand to backhand the boy.

Weapons drawn, the detectives stepped closer. "Police!"

The large man took off down the alley while the one holding the boy turned, using the boy as a shield, holding a knife to his throat.

Before anyone could move, a deep growl came out of the shadows followed by more than 75 pounds of angry wolf. The man screamed and pushed the boy away in his rush to get away. He only made it two steps before being taken down in a flurry of teeth of fur.

Vecchio was convinced he'd have to shoot, but Kowalski lowered his weapon and casually said, "Ease up, Dief. Just hold him, don't kill him – much as he deserves it."

The wolf backed up a bit but snarled when the man started to move.

Vecchio looked around. "Where's the other one – the tough guy who beats up kids?"

"Where's the kid?" responded Kowalski.

Elaine's shout from behind a dumpster had them running down the alley. They rounded the dumpster in time to see Elaine trying to pull Fraser off the bigger man. It took Vecchio and Kowalski using full force to drag the Mountie away. By that point, Fraser's knuckles were bruised and bloody.

"You okay, buddy?" asked Kowalski. "Talk to me, man – you have to pull yourself together or I'm going to have to cuff you for your own safety."

"Cuffs!" exclaimed Frannie, reaching into her purse. She pulled out a pair of handcuffs and handed them to Elaine, who was calling for backup. When she finished the call, she grabbed their prisoner's wrists and cuffed him to the dumpster.

Vecchio turned to Kowalski. "Since when does my sister carry cuffs in her purse?"

"Try not to think about it," advised Kowalski as he looked around for any other threats, weapon at the ready.

"I'm serious, here. What possible--"

Fraser suddenly grabbed Vecchio's arm. "The children?"

Before he could answer, Diefenbaker started barking. They got to him as two uniformed officers approached with weapons drawn.

Vecchio held out his badge. "It's okay – he's with us." While he explained what had happened, Dief ran into the building, Kowalski and Fraser hot on his heels. As they approached the basement door, they could hear shouting, voices calling for help downstairs. The boy who'd been roughed up was struggling to open the padlocked door.

He turned to them, tears streaking down his face. "Please – my brothers and sisters are down there."

The scene below was heartbreaking. Four kids, roughly aged three to 10, huddled in a corner as the door opened. A little girl of about 8 took one look at Fraser and launched herself at him crying, "You came! I knew you would!" much to the confusion of everyone except Fraser, who held the child close.

Almost three hours later, they finally got the whole sordid story about corruption and abuses in a particular group home. The eldest, Jacob, had been trying to lead his foster brothers and sisters to safety when they'd been caught.

The question of what to do with the children had come up when they'd panicked at the thought of being separated and sent to different homes. Frannie, bless her, had saved the day by calling a friend who knew someone who – well, the children ended up at Ma Vecchio's place for the night. Two weeks later, the three boys and two girls were split up between the Kowalski-Vecchio and Vecchio-Besbriss homes.

 

==================== ===== ====================  
 _ **Benton didn't come home for almost three months. I'd hoped that whatever had compelled him to leave in such a, well, a murderous state, had been resolved. And perhaps it had, but he continued to be restless, so much so that everyone was almost relieved when he and Diefenbaker went on their annual trip to Chicago.**_  
==================== ===== ====================


	11. December 2005 - hens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hens.

Fraser frowned at his hands, not quite sure how he'd ended up with his fingertips soaking in a small bowl of liquid with rose petals floating on top. He looked over at the table to his left, where Elaine was in a similar situation. To his right, Francesca was also soaking her fingers, but she was also involved in a discussion about types of nail treatments.

Fraser had the uncomfortable feeling he was going to leave with more than just well-trimmed and buffed nails.

"Oh don't look like such a gloomy-Gus," said Francesca. "This is all part of the tradition."

He looked to Elaine for confirmation. "She's right. Planning showers and big parties always goes best with a manicure."

He was very fond of Ray and Ray, as well as Francesca and Elaine, and he did want to help them all celebrate the adoptions. However, he was beginning to wonder if perhaps there was, or should be, a limit to friendship.

Fraser eyed the garish display of nail polish with trepidation.

 

==================== ===== ====================

 _  
**I’m not one to judge, but when Benton and Diefenbaker came back with brightly painted glittering nails – well, I suppose as long as he’s happy there really isn't anything to say. I just don’t understand it, but more than anything I want my son to be happy so I don’t ask questions. Not even about the nail polish. Especially not about the nail polish... There is something in Chicago that keeps drawing him, something there that makes him happy. That doesn't stop me from worrying about his trips, however.**   
_

==================== ===== ====================


	12. December 2006 - turtle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turtle.

"Ray! Hey Vecchio, get your ass in here!"

Vecchio hurried out of the bedroom, hastily tying his robe as he rushed down the stairs. "What's the matter? Where's the fire?"

Kowalski pointed to the turtle tank. "What the hell is that?"

Vecchio gave him a look of disbelief. "That's your turtle, Stanley."

"Look a little closer, smartass."

"That's – where'd the other turtle come from?"

"You didn't do it?"

"Not me." Vecchio turned and shouted down the hall. "Jacob!"

Their son came in from the kitchen. "Yeah?"

"What do you know about that?" asked Kowalski, pointing to the tank.

"You mean Maxine?"

Vecchio was appalled. "You named a turtle Maxine?"

"What? No, of course not. Maxine’s her name."

Vecchio was clearly trying for patience. "How do you know that's her name? Did she tell you?"

"Don't be silly, pop, turtles don't talk."

Vecchio shot a quick 'told you so' look at his partner before turning his attention back to their son. "So, how do you know that's her name?" he asked, putting aside for the moment the issue of _where_ he'd gotten the turtle.

"I may have mentioned it," said Fraser coming in front the kitchen. "Hello Ray, Ray. Merry Christmas."

“You brought us a turtle for Christmas?” asked Kowalski.

Fraser crossed his arms over his chest. “Don't be silly Ray. I brought Maxine for Turtle.”

“Everyone needs love,” said Dief as he rushed past them to press his nose against the tank.

Vecchio whimpered. “I am not awake enough for this,” he muttered, and tried to ignore the way Fraser and Kowalski laughed at him as he lunged for the coffee cup Jacob brought over.

Diefenbaker turned to look at them and asked, “When will they start making babies?”

 

==================== ===== ====================  
 _ **Fraser has been uncharacteristically skittish of late. Maggie said it started with a letter. Of course it did. He didn’t seem upset, however, so I let him take his time, work up to tell me what he needed to say. I can’t say I was particularly surprised when he cornered me in my study after dinner, and the first words out of his mouth were, “Dad, I’m moving to Chicago.”**_  
==================== ===== ====================


	13. December 2007 - partridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patridge.

While Vecchio, Jake, Elaine and Zoe did a little last minute shopping, Kowalski, Frannie and the rest of the kids – Anna, Shawn, and Skye – wandered through the Christmas displays.

Kowalski sang along with the music, "....and a partridge in a pear tree."

"No, papa, that's a per-dree," said Anna, nestled in his arms.

He laughed. "Sweetie, I'm pretty sure it's a partridge in that pear tree." He smirked a bit remembering the joke Vecchio told about Danny Bonaduce and a pair--

"Nope. It's _une per-dree_."

The others arrived from the mission just in time to hear that. "Really? Who told you that?" asked Vecchio.

She turned and pointed. "He did," she said, wriggling out of Kowalski's arms.

"Hello, Ray, Ray," said Fraser as the children ran to hug him.

 

==================== ===== ====================  
 _ **Never thought I’d see the day we had a branch office south of the 49th parallel. Still, it probably won’t hurt to have an office further south, so I guess all is as it ought to be in the end. Besides, Maggie has been itching to move up the ladder. After dealing with Fraser all these years, I figure she's ready for the big league.**_

 **  
_So there you have it, so much changed all because of a few letters. And make no mistake, big changes like this always signal an end, and that is exactly what this is – the end._   
**

**  
_Oh, don't worry, it's not the end of Christmas. That will never end as long as there are people with loving hearts and generous spirits – and as long as someone is willing to take over the family business. No, I just meant it's the end of the old way of doing things. My son is right, it's time to move into the future and embrace society as it is, not as it used to be. But that's something for the younger generation. Once Benton gets settled in Chicago, and Maggie has taken the reins here, me and the Missus are going to retire, maybe look into a condo in Miami, open a bowling alley or something._   
**

**  
_We’ll just have to wait and see what next Christmas holds._   
**

**_God rest ye merry gentlemen – and ladies – and all creatures great and small. Merry Christmas!_**  
==================== ===== ====================


	14. DVD extra - playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the music which helped inspire this bit of Christmas crack.

Originally, I wanted to give this as a downloadable CD type thing, but had many and varied technical difficulties, all made worse by not knowing what I was doing. So, here is the list of songs and artists in no particular order. The music was chosen based on... well, basically the music seemed to choose me, so I have no real explanation for this playlist.

The links go to youtube (none of the vids are mine, I'm just giving links so you can hear what I heard).

I hope you enjoy.

Merry Christmas!

[Santa's Got a Brand New Bag](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sSdV9EoNADg&feature=related) [by shedaisy]

[Dig That Crazy Santa Claus](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2-rhtOKvCc) [by brian setzer orchestra]

[Mister Santa](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ynzgfuwuNn8) [by amy grant]

[Believe](http://youtu.be/eT-sC33vB5M) [by josh groban]

[Twelve Days of Christmas](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2kYEK-pxs_A&t=28s) [by straight no chaser]

[Maybe This Christmas](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P1rTSGil0Ww) [by ron sexsmith]

[The Little Drummer Boy](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IrNcD34KFhM) [by sean quigley]

[What a Year for a New Year [by dan wilson]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1PxqT6IUEo)

[The Christmas Can-Can](http://youtu.be/7E-47VmFopE) [by straight no chaser] (sorry about the commercial before the video starts)

[God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen/We Three Kings](http://youtu.be/HGVNzgUxE-g) [by barenaked ladies, feat. sarah mclachlan]

**Author's Note:**

> There are many variations of "The 12 Days of Christmas". After much research, I chose the version that goes:  
> 12 Lords a Leaping / 11 Ladies Dancing / 10 Pipers Piping / 9 Drummers Drumming / 8 Maids a Milking / 7 Swans a Swimming / 6 Geese a Laying / 5 Gold Rings / 4 Calling Birds / 3 French Hens / 2 Turtle Doves / And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.
> 
> The fascinating history of this song - and many of its variations - can be found [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Twelve_Days_of_Christmas_\(song\)).


End file.
